


Save Him From Himself

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys Kissing, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hallucinations, Healing, Human Experimentation, Imprisonment, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Nygmobblepot, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Revelations, Revenge, Torture, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 08:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10895991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: Requested by @marvelousouatwhoEd's world comes crashing down after being taken and tortured by the Court of Owls. Good thing Oswald comes to the rescue and helps him pick up the pieces.





	Save Him From Himself

'Our clones do not have a long lifespan by design'.

Ed forced a hand over his mouth as sour bile rose in his throat.  
In front of him, Isabella’s dead body was frozen within an Indian Hill cryogenic capsule.  
He could still see the marks of her untimely death marring her pale skin, blood caked at the corner of her mouth ruining the illusion of a soul at rest.  
Kathryn had promised to tell him everything but this was the first place they had come to: an abandoned warehouse under the command of the Court’s science division.  
He had seen Isabella and Kathryn had destroyed his illusion.  
He ran to a nearby empty barrel and vomited into it.  
He couldn’t help himself.  
He didn’t care about the moral issues of cloning.  
Only the stark, horrifying realization that he had killed Oswald for something that had been grown in a tube.  
But for what purpose?! 

'Why?’ he sputtered, ‘Why her?!’

'Hugo Strange originally approved her design as therapy for you in Arkham. The point was for you to fall in love all over again, perhaps meeting her in the guise of a nurse or fellow patient, and then part with her on more amiable circumstances: a death of natural causes instead of at your own hands’. 

Ed spun on his heel, sour saliva coating his bared teeth but was stopped in his tracks by the (what had Kathryn called him or it?) Talon that had accompanied them to the warehouse.

‘Strange even hard wired her brain to find morose subjects and doomed love stories appealing to ensure the attraction would hold despite your proclivities for murder’, Kathryn continued, ignoring Ed’s aggression, ‘Not to mention the multitude of trivia books he had her consume so she would prove a match for your formidable esoteric knowledge’.

She wiped some condensation from the capsule’s window and nodded approvingly.

‘You should be flattered he thought so much of your intellect. She truly was a perfect match for you'.

'But she wasn’t real!’

'Of course she was 'real'’, Kathryn said coolly, ‘Her attraction to you and her physical attributes was programmed down to the finest detail. Didn't you think it was odd that nobody at the GCPD pointed out how similar she looked to the former employee you murdered?’

‘Her name was Kristen’.

Kathryn ignored him.

‘Or that she had no family? Not even someone to come reclaim her body?'

'I was grieving!'

'For an idea Mr Nygma. Not a person’, Kathryn said, shrugging slightly, ‘That said, we didn't expect her to seek you out once freed from Indian Hill. When she did, we thought we could take advantage: use her as a distraction for you to ensure our new mayor would be isolated while we assessed him’.

‘Nice try’, Ed smirked.

‘Indeed. That was the second unpleasant surprise: our former mayor took such exception to her presence, he terminated her himself. But I suppose it proved one thing'.

'And what's that?'

'That he was right’, Kathryn said, the faintest hint of smugness in her smile, ‘The woman really was a disaster for you both'.

'Who was right?'

'Your erstwhile admirer, former Mayor Cobblepot. We spoke briefly at the Founder’s Dinner. His romantic feelings for you were obvious'.

'Obvious', Ed repeated, heart hammering as he felt his stomach lurch again.  
He should have been there with Oswald. If he had he would have met this woman, learned so much! Instead he had stayed at home and spent the evening with what amounted to a re-animated corpse!

'Unfortunate he never told you’, Kathryn said, shaking her head, ‘It would perhaps have spared us the effort of capturing you but I suppose it's not 'capturing' if the hunted animal just walks into the waiting snare is it?'

She walked past Ed and Ed noticed the Talon move into position.  
They were leaving.

'So what now?' he asked.

Kathryn just smiled.

 

‘You were right’, Kathryn said, fingers tapping on the railing beneath the window, ‘He was of use after all’.

‘I told you he would be’, Strange said, making notes on a clipboard, eyes soaking up every detail of what they were watching, ‘He’s the ideal test subject for Dr Crane’s fear toxin. Due to his logical brain, he is able to lucidly describe every detail of what he is experiencing’.

He winced as Ed gave an ear-splitting scream.

‘It’s just a shame he’s obviously used questionable substances before’, he continued once Ed had segued back to gentle whimpering, ‘We had to go straight to the higher doses for it to have any effect’.

‘How much longer will he last?’

‘That depends on how long you want him to’.

‘He announced the Court’s existence on live television and demanded answers from us. He should be grateful he’s lasted this long’.

‘May I just take this opportunity to thank you once again for allowing me to document his…’instruction’’.

‘You may. We will require copies of your findings of course’.

‘Of course’.

‘And you may have the body when his heart finally gives out’.

Strange nodded enthusiastically. In that case he had best put the arrangements in place. Judging from Nygma’s vital signs, he would have to be put on ice soon.

 

Ed doesn't know how long he's been there.  
He licks his dry, chapped lips and tastes blood.  
His nose is bleeding again.  
He reaches up to wipe the blood trail away but catches sight of his hand.  
He shouldn’t have kept scratching.  
They warned him: if he kept scratching he might hurt himself.  
But Ed couldn’t help it.  
Whatever hallucinogen they were pumping into his cell had caused an irritating rash and how could he stop scratching when the chemical made him think that maggots were trying to eat their way out through his skin?  
The Court had warned him.  
And then they had done something about it.  
He tucked his hand back under his arm, trying to ignore the pain from where they had systematically torn his fingernails off one by one.  
It was easy to ignore one source of pain when your whole body ached.  
He hadn’t bathed in days.  
He hadn’t eaten.  
Once a day he was given a cup of lukewarm water.  
And then the experiments began.  
The air would become humid and stifling: the one way glass set into one wall of his cell growing misty with vapour. Then he would smell it: an ozone like smell that increased in strength until it got caught in your throat and made your eyes water. As he would reach up to brush the pained tears away, the visions would appear.  
Miss Kringle, holding her head on where Ed had detached it, a white worm poking out of one empty eye socket. Isabella, appearing as a heavenly vision before a blinding light would appear with the blow of a train horn and she would be pulverised into a pile of chunky, squirming pieces. Oswald…  
Ed had been instructed to call out what he was experiencing at first when the Court had first begun to dose him but he had stopped. All the screaming made his throat too sore to shout.  
Besides, they didn’t need to know his symptoms.  
They wanted to know he was afraid of them.  
They wanted to hear him describe what dying felt like.  
That’s what was happening.  
Ed leant his face against the cold wall and tried to take a deep breath. It did nothing to calm his racing heart or his shaking limbs. Nothing did. That was why he couldn’t sleep even though he could feel his body withering away without it.  
They were going to scare him to death.  
And nobody would care.  
Ed gritted his teeth as he felt the treacherous tears begin again.  
No! He mustn’t cry! Mustn’t let them see him break!  
He was the Riddler! They would not take that from him!  
He had lost everything since meeting Isabella but he would not give them the satisfaction of breaking him!  
He would die first!  
He was going to die first.

His eyes widened as he saw his breath start to mist in front of him.  
No! It couldn’t be time again already!

‘Please…no!’ he whispered hoarsely, trying desperately to get to his feet, ‘Not again!’

He couldn’t get up. His legs felt like boulders but shook like jelly.  
He head swam from the effort.  
He rubbed his forehead and was shocked at the amount of sweat he felt beneath his fingers.  
A fever? How long had he been running a fever?  
And why was it suddenly so cold?

The wall of his cell was growing colder by the minute.  
Ed fell forward from his sitting position and managed to crawl a few feet away on his stomach. He lay on the hard, damp floor, wondering what fresh Hell the Court had planned as he watched his cell wall crack.  
Suddenly it collapsed like wet sand and Ed shivered as he was hit with a blast of freezing air.  
His teeth chattered and he curled into a foetal position, trying desperately to shield himself.  
This wasn’t a drug induced hallucination.  
But then what-

He gasped as he saw a figure emerge into his cell.  
A person he knew to be dead.  
Did that mean he was dead too?  
He hadn’t felt it. Perhaps he should be grateful.  
It was only whenever he knelt beside Ed to search for a pulse that Ed spoke.

‘Os-Oswald?' he asked.

Oswald’s eyes widened as he heard Ed speak and Ed saw the traces of a relieved smile on his face.  
Then it faded into a look of abject rage and hurt.  
It was the last thing Ed saw before Oswald swung a fist and knocked him out.

 

Ed slept but he didn’t dream.  
Occasionally he would see blurred images of the waking world he captured through fluttering eyelids. The smell of flowers, vomit and sweat on his pillow.  
Sometimes he heard voices.

‘It’s not pretty but it works’, a young woman was saying, ‘He’s gotta purge all that nasty junk the Court were pumping into him’.

‘How long?’ Oswald asked, ‘Whatever you need I-‘

‘It’s okay Pengy’, she replied, ‘My friends know what they’re doing. You need to get some rest. You can’t keep sitting here’.

‘How long?’ Oswald asked again, harsher his time.

‘Another week?’, came the reply, ‘If he lives…’

‘He’d better’.

‘Why? Didn’t you want him dead?’

There’s a long pause before Oswald answers.

‘I just want to kill him myself’.

 

It’s evening when Ed finally regains consciousness properly.  
He cracks one bleary eye open to find he’s in Oswald’s mansion. He recognises the wooden panelling of the ceiling of the bedroom Oswald gave him.  
Back when they were friends.  
Oswald is there, sitting at the foot of the bed in an armchair. He’s not looking at Ed. Ed’s eye moves to follow Oswald’s thoughtful stare.  
He’s looking at the painting of them both, smiling frozen in time beneath a neon green question mark. Ed is surprised he kept it.

He clears his throat and the effect on Oswald is instantaneous. He’s on his feet and at Ed’s side before Ed manages to open his other eye.  
Oswald reaches for him, eyes wide with worry but then gives an odd start. Ed sees his pale eyes turn to glass, the concern drowned by cold fury. Ed can practically see the memories of what he did rising to the surface. Oswald determinedly returns both hands to his sides, fists clenched and mouth tight.

Ed tries to ask a question but coughs. His throat is like sandpaper.  
Oswald holds a glass of water to his lips and Ed, too parched to care about accepting his charity (or potential poison) drinks deeply. As he waves a hand for it to be taken away, he sees he is hooked up to an IV. Something murky and green is being pumped into his bloodstream.  
He’s too weak to be worried about it, much less remove it.  
Once his throat is moist, he finishes his question.

‘Why did you save me?' he asks.

'Because I want to kill you myself', Oswald says simply.

'Oh', Ed said, raising himself slowly into a sitting position.

'Well, what did you expect?!' Oswald demands, surprised by the regret in Ed's voice.  
He had been expecting a fight. Not resignation.

'I don't know', Ed admits, ‘If you're going to kill me, then shall we just get on with it? I feel awful'.

‘Sorry’, Oswald says snidely, vexed at hearing his own defiant words used against him, ‘I've been planning this for a while now. I'm going to enjoy it'.

'Classic villain archetype’, Ed comments, ‘This isn't going to lead to a monologue is it?'

'You tell me: you're the one prancing about on stages and taking over TV stations Nygma'.

'Nygma?' Ed repeats.  
He knows what he heard. He just didn’t expect Oswald addressing him so formally to sting so much.

'Oh! I’m sorry!’ Oswald apologises mockingly, ‘Would you prefer Riddler? Do you spell that with a 'the' at the start?'

'You tell me Mister 'The Penguin', Ed replies without venom then changes the subject, 'How did you survive?'

'Penguins swim', Oswald shrugs.

Ed knows Oswald is not explaining any further out of spite but is too tired to pry.

‘I seem to be making a habit of missing the obvious lately', he says.

'Yeah, like why you shouldn’t get into a car with people you don't know'.

'You know about that?'

'So it’s true? You just handed over your gun and got in their car?'

Ed nods and grits his teeth as his head pounds.

'You can be so stupid sometimes you know that?!' Oswald snaps.

Ed doesn’t answer, confused by Oswald’s anger. Why does he care what Ed did? And why wasn’t he dead by now? When Oswald decided to kill someone, they ended up dead. Quickly and efficiently.

‘Why did you do it?!' Oswald demands, irked by Ed’s silence.

'They promised to answer my questions'.

'What questions could be so important that you let them hurt you like that?!'

That was a good question.  
What had been so important?  
Ed swallows hard as a lump starts to form in his throat, created by the memories of his time with the Court.

‘It was all a lie', he croaks.

'What?'

'Isabella'.

'What are you talking about?'

'They told me Strange built her for me. As an experiment. And I didn't even see it'.

'I knew all along that-' Oswald begins, triumph in his eyes but Ed jabs a finger at him to silence him. 

As he does, he notices, thankfully, that his damaged fingertips have been bandaged.

'Don't you _dare_ try and say that justifies what you did!'

Oswald recovers quickly, throwing up his hands in frustration.

'Well boo hoo! Forgive me if I don't have a lot of sympathy for your little broken heart!'

'You should!' Ed yells, feeling tears begin to spill from his bloodshot eyes.

'After what you did to me?!' Oswald rages.

'You broke my heart first! I said I would do anything for you!'

'And then you go off with some mysterious woman-'

'Because you didn't say anything!’ Ed yells as he bangs his fists on the bed in helpless rage, ‘If you loved me why didn't you just _say something?!'_

'I was going to!’ Oswald screams, face red and eyes blazing, ‘I planned a whole dinner to tell you! You were supposed to get the wine and you never came home! Until you wandered in the next morning saying you’d met the new love of your life! What would you have done?!'

'Tell you I loved you!'

'But you _don't!'_

_'Yes I do!'_

Ed’s mouth hangs open at the realization of what he had just admitted and Oswald looks as if Ed had physically slapped him. He can see Oswald searching for a comeback but also sees hope buried beneath his fury. He wants to believe Ed.  
Ed is astounded that he wants Oswald to believe him too.  
Because it is the truth.

'I love you', Ed repeats, quieter this time.

If you think for one second’, Oswald says in a low, dangerous voice, ‘That this pathetic show will convince me to spare your life-'

'I don't'.

'Then why are you lying?!' Oswald demands, leaning over the bed towards Ed, deliberately invading his space.

Ed refuses to move back.

‘I'm not', he says simply, meeting Oswald’s searching eyes impassively.

They stay that way for a few seconds, neither one willing to back down, both trying to read the other’s reaction to Ed’s declaration.  
Then, Ed reaches his hand out towards oswald.

'Don't', Oswald warns.  
But he doesn’t move away.

'Please’, Ed says, as his hand draws closer to Oswald, ‘I just…need to make sure'.

This statement ignites something dark in Oswald who scoffs and tears his shirt open, paying no mind to the torn buttons as they scatter over the floor and bed.

'Of what?' he asks savagely, 'This?!'

He grabs Ed’s hand in a vicelike grip and forces it over the wound left from Ed’s bullet. Ed gasps as he feels the rough texture of the wrinkled scar tissue beneath his hand and Oswald give a compulsive shudder as his fingertips trace the purple skin tone. It is a deep scar: a permanent dark indentation in Oswald’s milky skin.  
As if pulled by a magnetic force, Ed feels his hand drifting upwards towards Oswald’s chest.  
He can feel Oswald’s chest rising and falling quickly beneath his touch but Oswald makes no move to stop him. Ed can sense his confusion but he has to be sure.  
It is only whenever he reaches the section of the chest that covers Oswald’s heart and feels the powerful muscle beating behind it that Ed gasps in shock and (to his surprise) an overwhelming feeling of happiness.

'This is real', Ed murmurs, sniffing as he feels his tears begin anew, ‘You're really here?'

Oswald turns his head away determinedly.

‘Of course I am’, he says almost sulkily, ‘Why are you talking like you missed me?’

‘I did’, Ed replies, lowering his hand, ‘I'm sorry Oswald'.

'You're sorry? You're _sorry?!_ You tried to murder me and you think 'sorry' is going to make it all better?!'

'No’, Ed says, closing his eyes, ‘I just….need you to know. Before I die’.

Ed’s eyes snap open as he feels Oswald grab his shoulders and shake him hard. 

‘No!’ Oswald cries, ‘You’re not going to die! Ivy said you wouldn’t!’

Ed blinks in confusion.

‘But you said you were going to kill me’, he said, narrowing his eyes, ‘Right?’

Oswald’s mouth opens and closes a few times. It makes him look more like a fish than a penguin.  
Ed watches him search for a witty retort, a threat, anything to cover up his treacherous concern for Ed, his former friend turned enemy. After what seems like an age, Ed sees Oswald’s eyes harden resolutely.  
He braces himself but could never have anticipated what came next.

Oswald kisses him, tongue flicking inside Ed’s mouth to taste him for just a second before dancing away again. His lips are warm and soft and he tastes like mint.  
Ed barely registers what is happening before Oswald pulls back, eyes wide and cheeks coloured. He glares at the hand that had been caressing Ed’s face as if it’s a poisonous snake. Then he practically flees from Ed’s bedroom.

‘I decide when you die! Not you!’ he shouts over his shoulder as he slams the door behind him.

Ed lies back on his pillow, looks up at the ceiling and licks his lips.

‘Suits me’, he whispers as he feels sleep come to claim him once more.


End file.
